


you're the one I've been dreaming of, you see

by papered



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-17
Updated: 2011-06-17
Packaged: 2017-10-20 12:14:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papered/pseuds/papered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>written for round 2 of bookshop's fluff meme.</p>
    </blockquote>





	you're the one I've been dreaming of, you see

**Author's Note:**

> written for round 2 of bookshop's fluff meme.

When he walks into his dark hotel room, there is an unexpected, human-shaped lump on the bed.

Eames has his gun out in a second, but he keeps his footsteps light because the last thing he needs is for whoever it is to realize he's here. He makes it almost to the edge of the bed when the lump shifts. Eames stops but holds his gun steady.

"Eames?" comes a very very familiar voice.

" _Arthur?_ " Eames says incredulously, lowering his gun as he clicks on the lamp. The sight he's greeted with makes him smile.

Arthur's eyes are more closed than open, and his hair is an utter mess, curling around his head like a bird's nest. He frowns sleepily at the sudden brightness, small lines forming on his forehead as he tries to glare at Eames. "Turn off the light," he says, voice rough with sleep.

Eames is charmed. "Darling, what are you doing here?" he asks gleefully as he gets undressed. "Aren't you supposed to be in Vienna?"

"Job finished early," Arthur mumbles into the pillow, then swats a hand in Eames' direction like Eames is an annoying fly he can get rid of. "Talk tomorrow, sleep now," he says in what he evidently thinks is a commanding tone, but it just delights Eames even more.

"Admit it, you _missed_ me, didn't you," he says, not even trying to hold back the smile in his voice as he slips on the drawstring pants he'd packed.

"Shut up, come to bed," Arthur grumbles, head buried under what looks like a small mountain of blankets. Eames laughs out loud, then complies because there's nothing he'd like to do more. Slipping under the covers, he turns off the light. Arthur mumbles something about how Eames is freezing, but he presses closer all the same, pliant and lovely against him.

Eames tangles their legs together, presses his lips once to Arthur's cheek ("Goodnight, darling.") and falls asleep to the sound of Arthur's steady breathing.


End file.
